The moment Clara fell, the flow of the fight twisted into something sharper.
The two controlled fighters pressed forward again, chains scraping against stone as if pulled by an unseen hand. Noel didn't move at first. His eyes stayed on Clara's still form, on the way Selene had instinctively shifted to stand between her and the next incoming attack.
A clean finish was within reach. He could feel it. One decisive release of power and it would be over.
But that wasn't the goal.
Selene bought them time. She stepped forward and thrust her hand out, voice steady despite the tension in her chest.
"Frozen Lance."
Condensed spears of ice tore across the street, angled low and precise, forcing the pair to halt and retreat a step. The intent was clear. Slow them. Push them back. Create space.
The response was immediate. The girl raised her arm and answered with fire.
"Fireball."
